What Would Have Happened
by BrokenKestral
Summary: "If you could change the past, would you?" Edmund's POV.
1. Hide

**Disclaimer: This story started as I reread SouthwestExpat's "Under the Sea, inspired by Edmund's quote/thought: "'Not five minutes later, Lucy found me, coming back from her tea with Mr. Tumnus.' Edmund shuddered. If Lucy had come any sooner, she would have recognized the Witch at once, and the Witch would have known she was recognized. Things might have taken a dreadful turn, maybe worse than they had gone."  
****So this story first belongs to C.S. Lewis, then to Jules Verne, then to SouthwestExpat, then to any reader who cares to read this story.**

**A/N: So…"Kidnapped" was a tale meant to be lighthearted, to help me practice writing humor. I loved it and I'll try to do it more.  
****This is not that kind of tale. This is a three-to-five-chapter story that explores some dark possibilities.  
****It's made me wrestle with the truth in Romans, in Genesis, and I'm still not sure I understand it, or if I won. Maybe by the time the tale is finished being written it will be better.  
****But, as a warning—this is dark.  
****Christmas fluff will come after, I promise.**

"_would you take the nails from His hands?"  
_—Jeremy Camp, "This Man"

OOOOO

The cold chilled the skin of Edmund's fingers, numbing them. He blinked, feeling the bite of it on his nose as well. Though he couldn't see it, he was pretty sure his nose was turning red. The rest of him was warm, however. Confused, Edmund looked down. He saw the ground, closer than it should be, and a much shorter body wrapped in the oddest clothing.*

Edmund blinked.

He raised his arms, looking at the small boyish hands. The sword calluses were missing, as was the scar running across one palm from the dagger he'd prevented from stopping Peter's heart. He clenched his fists; the fingers in front of him clenched as well. They were his, he could feel them (barely, in the cold), but he didn't understand why he had the fingers of a child. He shoved them into the sleeves of his shirt, looking around.

Trees, covered in heavy snow; he saw a world of white. It was Narnia. He guessed it was, anyway. It looked like the woods at the northern edge of Narnia; Archenland didn't have these types of trees, Calormen was desert, and there was no smell of the sea.

But it was also most definitely winter. He blinked, feeling the cold settle in his cheeks and ears. He took a step; the snow crunched under his feet.

It had been summer when he'd gone to bed. He remembered the feel of the thin coverlet, the flickering of the lamp on the ceiling, the way he'd been dwelling on what his sisters had told him, aching over it, unable to sleep...

That was the last thing he remembered. Now he was child in uncomfortable clothing, standing in a forest in the middle of winter. Had he walked through a door in his sleep? They'd walked from summer to winter once before-

Wait. What was that sound? Faint, something he only heard because the world was absolutely silent. It was far away, quiet but familiar. That was it—the runners of a sledge, sliding on the snow, mixed with the sound of bells-

A sound that made him suddenly fearful, though he barely remembered it, a sound he'd heard as a child with unmarked hands-

The Witch. Edmund's heart went as cold as his fingers; he knew that sound, knew what was coming. He sucked in a quick breath. He—he was here, he was back, back where his first time in Narnia began, somehow he'd started over-

And she was coming. He knew her now, knew the evil, the cruelty, the sound of her wand and the thrust of her sword, and he would not, he would _never_, choose her again.

Was that—was that why-

Hide! It was Edmund's quick and furious thought, he was an idiot, and he dove for the trees behind him, leaping as far as his child's body was able, trying to leave no footprints. He breathed, crouched, and jumped again, slamming into a tree. He huddled there, trying to force an untrained body into the quiet breathing and absolute stillness it hadn't done before, that only his brain remembered. _Please, Aslan, let her pass me by_.

_Please let me—let me set this right._

_I didn't know. I didn't know what would happen, the first time I chose her. Please, more than anything else, let me set this right._

He cowered behind the tree. _Aslan, hide me_. Then into sight swept a sledge drawn by two large, white reindeer with gilded horns, with a harness of scarlet leather, covered by the ringing bells. And there, sitting there, as he'd remembered in some of his nightmares, sat the fat dwarf in the polar-bear fur coat and red hat, and behind him, as beautiful as he remembered, crowned with gold, and as cruel as the Calormene Tisroc (he could see it now), was the Witch.**

Her eyes stared straight ahead. This, Edmund remembered, tensing in fear, was where she called out "Stop!" and his worst actions began-

But she never saw him. The sledge passed him by. Edmund watched with disbelieving eyes as it continued on its way. He straightened, waiting—but the bells were growing fainter.

_She hadn't seen him_.

She hadn't seen him.

He hadn't eaten her food, made her any promises, heard the temptations that grew into sin inside him.

He'd never told her about Mr. Tumnus.

_He'd never become a traitor_.

The Witch had no claim to any blood, for he'd never broken the law and given it to her. _Aslan, You hid me, You sent me back to make this right, and now it is_. Edmund's head, a boy's head, a boy's head with a man's relief, fell back as he laughed, quietly, but with the joy of a convict made completely innocent.

He drew in a breath that was almost a gasp, and shook himself. Lucy. He would go find Lucy, and enter into her joy this time, for real, and together they would tell Peter and Susan about a wonderful world that needed them. He wondered if Lucy would remember too.

He turned towards the direction he thought Lucy would be coming from (also towards the almost-faded sound of bells)—he didn't quite remember where Mr. Tumnus' house was from here—when he heard Lucy scream.

He froze. The bells, Lucy, a Daughter of Eve to young and tall to be mistaken for a Dwarf—_Lucy!_ He ran towards the sounds, pelting as fast as he could, this stupid, stupid body, _please, Aslan, let me be faster_—he had to follow the tracks, follow the sleigh, _Lucy!_

Words, no, yelling, fear and anger mixed.

"No! No! Let me go! Let me _go!_"

His sister's voice. His sister, who knew the Witch for what she was, thanks to Mr. Tumnus.

A laugh. A chilling, cold laugh, cruel and confident, and a tinkling as if all the bells were rung as the reins were shaken to urge the reindeer onward.

_Lucy_.

Edmund ran faster, but he was not fast enough. The Witch had her prize, and would have gone for home immediately. Lucy would never have answered her questions.

Edmund stopped, panting, when he could no longer hear the bells. He blinked, trying to keep his eyes clear. Think. He had to think.

_Peter and Susan aren't here_. _I could go back to get them—no, I can't. The door doesn't stay open, that's how I got to tease Lucy about it for so long—I was a beast to her. Aslan, __Lucy_. _I can't go get them_. _Here, then. Mr. Tumnus—he would help, Lucy's taught him courage, and the Witch doesn't know about him, but what could we do? Oreius, then, he has to be here somewhere._

Oreius. Edmund pictured the strong, suspicious Centaur in his mind and wondered what would happen if a Son of Adam showed up at his cave—Oreius had told them stories, at their request, and Edmund thought he knew were Oreius was now, though those memories were fading—and if that Son of Adam knew his name and his history and demanded his allegiance, or his help, with only one sibling and not three, and no Aslan to back Edmund up—Edmund did not think that would go well.

He had to try anyway. For Lucy's sake.

He turned towards the Northern Mountains—Oreius was somewhere there, that way. Too far, but close enough for a message. There was someone closer, wasn't there? A cave close by where Edmund stood now. He could walk there in an afternoon.

Edmund scrubbed his weak boy's hands across his face and set out determinedly. Together, he and the Centaur could come up with a plan to rescue Lucy. _Soon_, before the Witch could be cruel to her. Edmund refused to consider what would happen if the Witch decided she liked Lucy as a statue instead. She'd want information from Lucy first.

He tried to tell himself that was reassuring.

He tried, through the first hour of cold, an hour as miserable as the time he'd walked from the Beavers' house to _Her_ house, slipping and sliding, wet through, and so very, very cold.

He tried, as the trees thinned and the mountains began, and he realized he was very hungry too. He'd had no Turkish Delight, no Beavers' dinner, no tea with Tumnus.

_Lucy probably has had worse_. Edmund winced at the thought. He had to save his sister.

The whole point of hiding from the Witch was that _no one_ had to pay the price.

_Please, Aslan, don't let Lucy be hurt because I hid like a coward_.

_You couldn't have fought her_, his rational side reminded me. Edmund slipped on some stones, and caught himself on the hillside, hand sinking into snow.

_I could have __tried__._ He picked himself up. The cave with the first group of Aslan's followers should be ahead soon. There was a Robin in it, Edmund thought, a friend of the Beavers and Oreius, a Robin who knew everyone. The Robin would help him find the right people

_You wouldn't have won_. His rational side was still arguing. Edmund took another step.

_Fine. I wouldn't have won. I could have tried something else._ Edmund leaned against a tree, panting. _I could have gone to find Lucy. We could have both hidden. Then-_

_Then she'd be safe right now._

His logic had no answer for that.

It didn't matter. He was at the cave anyway.

There was no one there.

The nest on the ledge jutting out from the roof was in shambles, and cave was cold, and everything left in it was sticks or dirt.

They'd left, Edmund realized. Sometime right before the Four came, Robin had left.

Oreius was too far away. Tumnus now too, and the Beavers. Lucy-

_Lucy would be dead or stone. Lucy! I can't do anything! There's nothing left to do! I should have gone after them!_

_Lucy!_

Edmund crumpled to the floor of the cave, his hands over face, breaking down in sobs. "Aslan!" he cried, his heart ripping, his mind helpless. "Aslan! _Aslan_!"

OOOOO

*So, when I first wrote this I wrote him wearing a long fur coat, then in the middle of writing the second chapter realised he _wasn't wearing a fur coat the first time he was in Narnia_. *Facepalms...or rather, I said, "Oh, you _idiot_" out loud, because I realised I'd written who-knows how many descriptions of the coat into the story.* I went back and checked, by the way. He wasn't wearing the coat, he was even shivering.  
**Descriptions are taken almost directly from _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_.

**A/N: I know there's a very good reason Lewis wrote, "What would have happened, child? No one is ever told that." I know because "what if's" even in this fictional world are already driving me crazy. I don't know for certain what **_**would**_** have happened if Edmund had hid (or the next chapter), but I think, while we're not told for certain what would have happened, we can learn from seeing the choices we weren't allowed to take. Sometimes. Maybe. Lewis is probably right, and I'm probably wrong, but I'm going to write this anyway, because I'm learning from it. Somehow I don't think he'd mind. Perhaps because I'll be proving his point in the end, if the story lets me?**


	2. Rescue

**Disclaimer: I dare not say I **_**own**_** a story that tells of God's redemption.  
****For I find I live it, and may retell it, but what God redeems is always and forever **_**His**_**.**

**Beta'd by trustingHim17 and SouthwestExpat, but mistakes are still mine. **

"_The blood and water flowed / and in it all He showed / just how much He cared."  
_—Jeremy Camp, "This Man"

OOOOO

Edmund wept on the floor of the cave till, exhausted, he slept.

But even sleeping, he remembered. Remembered the last night he'd had in summer, before waking again to the Witch's winter; he remembered everything that happened that day. He remembered the story told to him that changed everything.

* * *

Though the story was told that night, the events leading to it had begun early in the day, when Susan realised how eager he was to uphold the law, and how little patience he had for its offenders. Especially repeat offenders.

Stubborn, Dwarfish, repeat offenders.

"They need mercy, Edmund." The Gentle Queen's voice was, for once, not gentle at all, as she strode beside her brother down Cair Paravel's hallway.

"It's the third time it's been brought to us. If they keep taking wood for their fires there won't be any trees left to shelter the Dryads' homes. The Dwarves' desire for glory does not outweigh the needs of the Trees to _live_. The first two times we forgave, but still they repeat their offences! I'm not giving them any more chances to do so." He stopped and looked at his sister; looked her in the eyes, for they were the same height now.

"There does need to be consequences for their actions. I am not disagreeing with that, Edmund, but you're not _hearing_ me. Forcing the entire clan to move is punishing the many for the offences of the few, and it is not-"

"Not fair?" Edmund finished when his sister paused. "It is, and you know it, because they're sheltering the culprits. If they will not cooperate with justice, then they will feel the bite of it. If they will not stop cutting down the trees, they will move away from them." He opened the door to the Great Hall.

"Then offer them mercy," Susan said quietly behind him. "What you're doing is in the law, Edmund, but not...not what Aslan would want. Not _just_.* There must be a wiser way to go about this."

"Go about what?" Lucy's voice inquired from within, and Edmund stepped back with a bow to let his older sister through.

"The Dwarves of the Mountains have been harvesting the forests again," Edmund said quietly, stepping in behind Susan. His other sister was standing along the wall, watching Peter on his throne as the High King listened to a Centaur's complaint.

"We know," Lucy said quietly, nodding to the Centaur stamping his foreleg in frustration as he told the High King of his troubles. "Some of their homes in the caves have been jeopardized by landslides, because too many of the tree roots that hold the mountain sides in place have died." She shook her head. "They are digging and cutting too greedily, and too fast."

"They are competing with the Red Dwarves of the Eastern Caves for the money of the merchants of Calormen," Susan sighed.

"And many among them have no eyes or mind for anything but winning," Edmund agreed stonily. "But they will regret it."

"There _has_ to be a different solution," Susan argued softly, careful not to interrupt.

"Then come up with one," Edmund shot back, though he kept his voice down. "But I don't see the sense in taking so much time to think through a solution for people who break the law or shelter those who do."

Peter rising from his chair interrupted their debate. The argument had been cut short by the next case, and had been pushed to the back of Edmund's mind.

But not his sister's. That night, there had been a gentle, hesitant knock on his door as he read over the latest exchanges from Archenland. He laid them down, calling, "Come in!" He watched in surprise as all three of his siblings entered. Susan looked afraid, her face white with mingled fear and pain. Lucy, her eyes resting fixedly on Edmund's face as she bit her lip, was worried, though Peter looked as confused as Edmund felt. Edmund quickly set the letters aside and gave the three his full attention.

Susan and Lucy sat side-by-side on the bed, while Peter stood by the fire.

Edmund waited.

The two didn't say anything. Peter was courteously waiting for them to begin, but Edmund, studying them, wasn't sure either of them knew how.

Susan was the first to break the silence, but she didn't speak to him. "Lucy, are you _sure_…"

Lucy blinked. "I am," she confirmed, though her voice wobbled. "It - Edmund, we have something you need to know." She took a deep breath and sat straighter. "It's going to be very difficult to tell," she told him, looking at him with all of her attention. "But I think it's going to be harder for you to listen."

"Of course it is," Susan interjected. She was twining her fingers together on her lap, twist, untwist, twist, untwist. "I still don't think we should tell him. He'll feel awful."

"I think Aslan meant for him to find out." Lucy stood, walking over to Edmund and taking his hand. "And we brought Peter because it's not fair if he doesn't know, but I think you need to know, because it - it is so much like _Aslan_."

Edmund, listening closely but no less bewildered, looked from Lucy back to Susan. "And you think I shouldn't know?"

Susan twisted her hands in her dress, gripping the fabric. "I don't _know_," she cried out. "I don't - oh, Edmund, it was awful." Peter made a move towards her, but stopped when Lucy shook her head. "We - remember the first night after the Witch came? When Aslan made us move, and that terrible, busy day?"

"Aslan was giving Peter battle plans," Edmund said, his heart picking up its pace. This, whatever it was, would be horrible. Aslan had left them that day, and Edmund had always told himself he knew why, that Aslan had gone to get reinforcements _and_ free those the Witch had turned to stone, that Aslan had trusted Peter, and even Edmund himself to some extent, with the battle. But it had never been _enough_ of an answer.

Not when Aslan could have won the battle with a single roar. Not when Aslan could have gone to the castle afterwards, when His army wasn't in danger.

Susan was remembering something different about that day. "Aslan was so sad - Lucy and I couldn't sleep."

"It felt like all the good times were over, even though they'd barely begun," Lucy added. Her eyes - still as clear as when she'd been that child - were filled with tears that she wasn't letting fall.

Susan continued, "Both of us - we just wanted Aslan. And Lucy suggested we go outside and look for Him, and we did. We saw Him walking away from the camp. We didn't say anything - we just followed." She took a deep breath. "He - He went back to the Stone Table."

The Stone Table. Edmund's mind raced; the next time they'd seen it, it had been cracked. And Lucy and Susan, especially Susan, had steered them away from it, but they'd both thrown backward glances. What had Aslan done there? What had cracked the record of the Deep Magic, written in stone?

"He saw us," Lucy put in. "He turned around, and saw us, and - He was so sad, Edmund. He said it, He said He was sad and lonely." Peter, unable to hold back more, drew Lucy back to the bed and put an arm around each of his sisters. Edmund followed, sitting on the other side of Susan and waiting.

"He had us put our hands in His mane," Susan recalled, and Edmund took her trembling hand in his. "We walked with Him, as long as we could. But we stopped - He stopped - He made us stop. At that last tree, before the Stone Table."

"He told us not to let ourselves be seen." Lucy's high voice trembled as much as Susan's hands.

"He went on, right - right to them."

"Them?" Peter asked, when it seemed Susan couldn't continue.

"The Witch." Susan's voice broke. "The Witch and her entire army."

"No," Edmund breathed. That couldn't be. Aslan could have defeated them all, Edmund knew He could. But the army had attacked the next day, and Aslan wouldn't have left evil unpunished.

"He didn't attack," and Lucy's voice was shaking now. "He walked right up to them and stood there. He - He didn't fight."

"The Witch ordered them to tie Him up - and - and they did." All four Pevensies were crying now, Peter's fingers white around his sisters' shoulders. "And they did - all kinds of horrible things. And then - then they took Him to the Stone Table. And the Witch - she - she-"

"We couldn't look," Lucy sobbed. "But she killed Him."

Peter and Edmund couldn't breathe, their faces twisted with horror.

"But He was _alive_," Edmund pleaded, when his sisters couldn't say anything. "The next day, He was _alive_." _He couldn't have died, He couldn't have died, He __couldn't__ have..._

"He came back," Susan remembered, sobs calming to tears. "He was brought back to life by a Deeper Magic from Before Time itself. He said-" She looked down, unable to meet Edmund's eyes.

"He said that if willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards,"** Lucy finished for her, the words ringing exactly as she had heard them. As her hope had been restored by the love of a Lion brought back to life.

There was no restoration for Edmund.

_The Table was cracked, not by what Aslan had done there_, Edmund thought in horror. _But by what Aslan had __allowed__ to be done there. Allowed to be done to __Himself__._

_For __me__._

Edmund ripped himself away from Susan's hand. He began pacing. Back and forth, window to fire, window to fire, window to fire.

_Not for me. Not for me. Not for a traitor. Not His life for mine, how can I-_

_I've tried so hard since then, to abide by the law, to never break it again, to be the law to all of His-_

_Never enough, it's never been enough, it's never going to __be__ enough-_

_And then - this?_

_How - why would He - _

_I know, I know __why__, I knew from the moment He spoke to me, a traitor trembling on a hill, I knew He loved me even then, but this - this kind of love -_

_Aslan, __why__?_

_How am I supposed to live with this?_

"Edmund. _Edmund. Edmund!_" Peter's hands were on his arms, almost shaking him, and Edmund looked up to his brother's face. "Edmund. He did it. He did it, and for you, and it's over now. It's over." His brother's fingers brushed at the tears on Edmund's cheeks, and Edmund shook his head impatiently.

"Of course you wouldn't question Him!" Edmund accused Peter. "You never do! You might mistake His orders and go your own stubborn-headed way, but you never question them like I do! Not when He orders you to fight a battle _on_ _your own_ when you just had your first fight, and not when He tells you your brother will be retrieved from the enemy's camp, and _not when He gives His own life for a traitor!_"

"Because Aslan is always right," and it was Lucy's voice, confident in her faith and in her hope, in the certainty of _knowing_. Because she knew Aslan.

Edmund knew Aslan too. And Edmund turned away, from his family, from the warmth of the fire chasing away the sea breezes at night, closing his eyes and remembering the Lion.

Aslan _was_ always right.

But maybe Susan had been right as well, because this - this wasn't something Edmund knew how to live with.***

He'd tried. He'd argued, shouted, and paced for the next hour, but nothing helped. He'd eventually thrown his siblings out of his room - though he guessed they probably moved just next door, unwilling to fully leave - and he'd gone to bed, pulling up the thin coverlet, and lay staring at the flickering of the lamp on the ceiling, dwelling on what his sisters had told him, aching over it, unable to sleep…

Remembering this truth he'd never be able to forget. His actions had cost the life of the Life-Giver.

And then, he thought, beginning to stir, he'd been given a chance to do it over, and he'd _still_ failed. Because he'd tried, and now his sister had been sacrificed instead of the King above all High Kings.

That still wasn't something he could live with. He wished he could stay asleep.

* * *

When Edmund woke, he was standing. He could feel the cold chilling the skin of his fingers, numbing them. He blinked, feeling the bite of it on his nose as well.

Edmund looked around wildly.

He wasn't in the cave.

He stood in the woods, the trees covered in snow from an endless winter. It was Narnia, it was near the Northern Mountains, it was _back, _back where he'd started, back where everything had gone _wrong_. He was wearing dry, unstained clothing, standing in the middle of a winter forest.

And there were the sounds of bells in the distance, with the small _crunch_ of flattened snow. A sound that heralded his living nightmare.

_Not this time,_ Edmund vowed. _You won't get Lucy this time. And I'm still not betraying Aslan. Never, never, ever again. Never will He have to give His life for mine. Nor Lucy!_ Edmund knew which direction the sledge had gone. This time Edmund would find Lucy first. Edmund took off, running, not caring about his footsteps, they could hide their footsteps _after_ he found his sister. Faster, faster. _Aslan,_ he prayed,_ please let me find her, she's Yours, let me find her first, before the Witch, before I do anything to make this wrong again, please help me_, running so fast he had to dodge the tree trunks, duck the branches, out of breath and panting, thinking _Lucy, where are you!_ He dodged another trunk and _smack_! he ran right into his sister.

"Edmund!" Lucy exclaimed in surprise. She scrambled to her feet. "Oh, Edmund! So you've got in too! Isn't it wonderful, and now-"****

"Quick!" Edmund gasped, panting. "We've got to hide! She's coming!"

"But you've got to meet-"

"Not now, Lu, just hurry!" Edmund was already looking around, grabbing for his sister's hand at the same moment. Lucy looked at him oddly, but she gave her hand, looking around as well.

"Are we still playing hide and seek?"

"No, we're hiding from her, that's her sleigh, can't you hear it?" The sound of bells were getting louder, and Edmund crouched, pulling Lucy beside him. There were no thick tree trunks nearby, they'd have to make do with a slender one and pray they blended in. "Be ready to jump!" he warned, tightening his grip. "One, two, three!" They jumped, crashing back to the ground a second later, but their footsteps were in the middle of a small clearing and now they were at the edge. Edmund ducked behind a tree, Lucy pressed between him and the trunk.

"Edmund?" Lucy asked, her whisper filled with surprise. Edmund realised his arms were around her, holding her as tightly as he could, arms shaking as he realised he was _here_, Lucy was _here,_ they were together and it _had_ to be all right this time, because he couldn't make a mistake that cost Lucy _or_ Aslan their lives, _he couldn't_-

But he was also not the Edmund this Lucy remembered, he could tell, because she was staring up at him with a forehead wrinkled in confusion and eyes a little frightened.

"Shhh," he soothed her. "I'll explain, it, Lu, later, I promise," he whispered, because now that he had her it would all be _fine_, they'd find Aslan and Lucy would lose all the fear she ever had.

Aslan would never have to die, and Lucy would be untouchable.

Closer, closer, sounded the bells, and Lucy whimpered. Edmund pressed her against him as tightly as he could, wishing he could inspire the confidence he could in the future, but knowing he didn't deserve it. Not from this Lucy. Not as he used to be.

Breathe. In, and out, in, and out, slow for his little sister. Waiting for the bells to come so close, and then fade.

_Crunch_, he heard the snow under the sleigh. The bells, tinkling in a mockery of the Father Christmas's music. Louder, louder, so close to where they were-

"Stop!" Edmund froze, for it was _her_ voice. He looked up, between the branches of the tree, and saw the Witch looking at them, the reindeer panting with the sharpness of their stop.

"Come out!" her sharp voice commanded. _No_, Edmund thought, _run_ \- but Lucy ignored the tug of his hand and stepped out. _NO, Lucy, come back!_

But this Lucy didn't trust him the way she would later, and she was looking at the Dwarf and the reindeer with curiosity on her face, walking forward. Edmund came as well, his grip tight on his sister's hand, till she winced. She looked at him, then back at the Dwarf - and then at the tall lady in the sleigh.

Her eyes grew large. She took a step back, and Edmund's heart ached, for he knew she understood.

"And what, pray, are you?" came Jadis' voice. Edmund looked up, that cruel face furrowing in a frown, eyes fixed on the two of them. Edmund pushed his sister behind him - she went willingly now - and looked up at the Witch.

"I'm a great overgrown dwarf who's cut off my beard," he lied desperately. Anything, anything, to keep Lucy safe this time.

Except choosing her side. He couldn't let Aslan pay that price for him again.

The Witch snorted. "You are an idiot, to think I would mistake her for such," she said, pointing at a part of Lucy. "Whatever else you may be, that I see clearly. But tell me this instant, you blithering fool, or I shall lose my patience, what _are _you?"

"Mr. Tumnus said I was a Daughter of Eve," Lucy offered from behind him, trying to help, and Edmund closed his eyes.

"A Daughter of Eve!" the Queen raged, standing to her full height. "And you a Son of Adam! Two, and easily dealt with!" She raised her wand, her eyes flaming, a terrible expression on her face, her wand pointed at Lucy,***** and Edmund shoved Lucy down, towards the snow, trying to push her away from Jadis.

Lucy fell, growing cold before he lost the touch of her arm, cold and hard. He turned around in terror. A statue of Lucy, her face frozen in surprise, stared up at him from the ground.

"No!" Edmund screamed, falling beside her, his hand on her stone shoulder, trying in vain to shake the heavy statue. His eyes blurred and he blinked quickly. "Lucy, Lucy, wake up! _Aslan_!" he cried, and the Witch flinched. "Aslan, help her!" He heard the Witch move as she raised her wand again, and the last thing he saw was the grey, hard face of his sister, one of his tears running down her stone face and into the snow.

OOOOO

*Per Google, the definition of "Just" is: "based on or behaving according to what is morally right and fair." Or, "(of treatment) deserved or appropriate in the circumstances." This, to me, implies wisdom in consequences as well as fairness in determining fault. Wisdom means training offenders not to repeat their actions as well as satisfying justice's demands.  
**Quoted directly from _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_.  
***I would like to note, if we're debating whether or not Edmund ever learned of Aslan's sacrifice, that while Lewis never wrote a scene where Edmund is told about Aslan's sacrifice, it is 1. left rather ambiguous as Susan and Lucy disagree about whether or not to tell him after the Battle of Beruna, and 2. confirmed in _Prince Caspian_, as Edmund is standing _right there_ when Aslan talks to Reepicheep about being bound with cords on the Stone Table...so I'm thinking Edmund knew. And I do know that Lewis read a certain book that says "You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." And since that verse speaks in the context of knowing Jesus - which includes knowing He came and died for us - I think Edmund eventually knew.  
****Lucy's dialogue is quoted from _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_. Much of the Witch's dialogue is quoted from the book as well. Hopefully I captured her tone in the times it wasn't!  
*****Since Edmund is no threat, I could see Jadis hating the Daughter of Eve more, since in Narnia that is what Jadis claims to be and isn't. Lies hate the truth that reveals them. Lucy is everything Jadis wants to be (by blood and nature, not personality), and I think Jadis would hate her more than Edmund if Jadis didn't know either of them.

**A/N: I'm curious - do you think the stone statues were aware of the passing of time, or insensible during their transfiguration?  
****And ****my apologies, as I don't think this chapter will be what most people are expecting. But...well, this story was written in advance, and I didn't have the energy to completely change it? Also, there should be one more chapter after this one, and I should publish it on Friday or Saturday. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate those. **

**Response to Namw: I'm so glad! And I'm glad the sibling fight in "Kidnapped" met with your approval, as it was your idea. :)**

**Response to AnonymousMe: I hope that answers some of your questions - but rest assured all of my stories will end with Aslan triumphing. That doesn't always mean victory - the Telmarines did win, for instance - but I almost always include an epilogue that shows the very end. Probably because I need that reminder myself, and I read once that authors should write the kind of stories they need. My thought was that Father Christmas came because he had almost a hundred visits to catch up on, and was therefore allowed that freedom, but the rhyme in the books clearly says that "we will have SPRING again," and I do think Aslan, in His foresight, could time the visits of the Pevensies with spring in the Narnian calendar. On the Peter note - I would say he protects his siblings, but overprotectiveness makes the safety of his siblings his first priority, above his duty to his people, above the three's ability to live their lives, and in some authors, above his duty to Aslan. That's what I disagree with. There's other instances of him being protective, and that is canon, but not overprotective. It's a balance I'm trying to strike. **


	3. Sacrifice

**Disclaimer: so, uh...this story is not letting me write it, it's arguing with me at almost every step except when I do what **_**it**_** wants, so I'm definitely not claiming ownership, because it would be a problem child. And I've already **_**been**_** one of those, I'm pretty sure I don't want to be responsible for another.  
****Beta'd by trustingHim17, with my heartfelt thanks, and checked by SouthwestExpat, who helped keep the truth present.**

**A/N: I think this is still a K+ story, but I've little confidence in my own rating abilities. If I ever write a story and you think the rating isn't high enough, please let me know! There is a stabbing in this chapter, so if that deserves a T, I will change it!**

"_Would you take the place of this man, / would you take the nails from His hands?"  
_—Jeremy Camp, "This Man"

OOOOO

Edmund woke, breathing deeply. _Aslan_, he thought. _Aslan must have breathed us back to life._

But he wasn't kneeling, Edmund thought, confused, and Lucy wasn't (_thank you, Aslan!_) a stone statue in front of him. And there wasn't a Lion - or a Witch - anywhere in sight. Where was he?

He was standing in the woods, in the midst of trees covered in snow. It was Narnia. It was near the Northern Mountains, and he could feel the cold numbing the skin of his fingers and his nose.

He was _back_. _Again_. And he didn't know what was worse, being brought back to wonder how horribly this time would turn out, or to stay in a world where they lost.

There was probably an interesting philosophical question in there, but Edmund couldn't care less about it at this moment. He could already hear the sleigh bells, and he had to decide what to do.

He couldn't hide. He couldn't hide Lucy. He couldn't betray Aslan again, not now.

But - maybe Edmund could take His place.

He had no chance of winning, Edmund knew. But perhaps winning wasn't the point. Perhaps paying for his mistakes was.

Justice, Edmund thought, swallowing. He had advocated the law in the years he'd been king. It would be just for him to pay for his own sin.

Even if he hadn't committed it yet, he supposed. He had done it. And he believed in justice.

This was justice.

So he waited, listening to the bells, praying for Aslan's protection on his sister.

_This is just_, he thought. He could hear the snow being packed under the metal. _This is better than Aslan dying._

_Better for Narnia?_ his mind asked. He tried to ignore it. But he couldn't, for that wasn't how Aslan had made him. _Aslan rose, for He was innocent. You will not_.

_I'm innocent now._

_You're paying the price for a sin you committed, and you'll argue it's justice, but that you're innocent?_ He could hear the scorn in his own words, the sarcasm.

_Then I'm following Him! What do you want me to do?_ He never had a chance to respond, for it was then that he came face to face with the Witch.

"Stop!" came the command, and the Dwarf pulling so sharply on the reins (cruelty marked all of her servants, Edmund realised, and he hoped that mercy and justice marked all of Aslan's as clearly).

"And what, pray, are you?"

He could lie - but all Edmund wanted now was to be Aslan's. He wouldn't lie. "I am Edmund, someone who stumbled into your woods."

The Queen's eyes appraised him. "Is that how you address a Queen?" she demanded of him darkly.

Edmund resolved, inwardly, to never call her anything acknowledging her rule again - but he had to buy Lucy time, too. "I am not a Narnian," he prevaricated.

"If you are not one of mine, you are my enemy," the Queen warned, drawing herself up again.

Edmund looked at her. At the cruel mouth, the eyes so quick to fill with rage, the fingers grasping the wand that he'd smashed once and that he passionately longed to smash again. He took a step forward. "I am not one of yours," he told her fiercely. "I am not now. I never will be again. I am Aslan's, first and last, and were I not a boy with no sword and no dagger, I would fight for His side and all the Narnians you ever wronged. But I tell you this, Jadis, the throne you've taken you cannot keep. Justice will call you to account for all you have done, and that time is coming soon. The four thrones will be filled. Your life will end. And you will never, ever be able to stop it."

Jadis, hate twisting her face, drew a dagger from beneath her cloak and stabbed him in the stomach. Edmund felt it, the metal biting, the nerves beginning to scream, and he fell back onto the snow, gasping. It was cold, he thought. Last time it hadn't been cold. "If I lose," the Witch whispered, leaning over him, "you will not live to see it." She twisted the knife and drew it out, wiping it on the icy snow. She mounted back into the sleigh. "Drive on," she said, her voice calm, and Edmund watched as they sledged away, still gasping, hands warm with the blood from his stomach.

His back, his arms, his face, they were all so cold, and his body burned in his stomach. He was choking, choking on something, and there were no Leopards to save him,* no Peter to tell him to hold on, and no Lucy to save him with a cordial she hadn't been given yet.

This was justice, he told himself, crying. This was better than Aslan dying. This was what _should_ have happened. But how can he save Narnia now? Four thrones, Aslan made _four_, how-

This was justice, surely this was best, this is what should have happened, it was, it was, and it hurt so much, and he was having trouble thinking, and he still wanted to know how Aslan would win now, he had to know._**_

"Edmund!" he heard, called out in a girl's distressed voice. "Edmund!" _Lucy_, he thought, already fading. _I'm sorry, Lucy…_

* * *

_Aslan_? Edmund thought. His eyes were closed, and he was still so cold. His cheek was stinging, a small prickling pain against the furnace in his abdomen.

_Not dead yet_, he thought groggily. He remembered pain like this from before. He could feel small hands tugging him, hands that had probably just slapped him. _Lucy_, he guessed, though where she thought she could take him was a mystery.

He remembered this, too, the way time slowed as his body gave out. Last time he'd been thinking about Peter, fighting the Witch, the girls who'd gone missing, and where Aslan had gone.

This time - this time he just wanted Aslan. Aslan, who had loved him even when he was a traitor.

That had been Edmund's most precious gift. Given after his siblings got their gifts, but the one given to Edmund had been incomparable - the love of Aslan.

A love great enough the Lion died for him. Here, growing colder, with nothing but thinking to get away from the pain, Edmund started crying. He couldn't wish Aslan didn't love him. And with Aslan, to love was to save.

But he wished, oh how he wished, Aslan's love had not cost the Lion so much. Edmund had _been _in the Witch's company; he knew the cruelty Aslan would have suffered. And they both knew the touch of the Witch's blade.

It was killing him now. And that meant the prophecy would never come true, Narnia would never be saved, Lucy and Susan would never be queens, they'd never even meet Aslan.

_But_ _he couldn't choose to be a traitor again._

And he wondered what would happen when he woke up this next time. He didn't know any other options, to bring about any other outcomes.

He was so cold…

* * *

He woke up shivering.

But he wasn't standing. He wasn't in a forest.

He was lying down, and it wasn't cold. Underneath his cheek was a soft fabric, and over him too - he sat up quickly, the thin coverlet falling off his shoulders. He was in Cair Paravel.

_He was in Cair Paravel_, _and his siblings were probably outside his door._ Edmund jumped out of bed, running to the door and yanking it open, to find his three co-rulers in grave consultation outside his door. They fell silent as soon as they saw him.

Edmund didn't care. He dived into the group, pulling Lucy into a hug, then spinning around to get to Peter, then pushing him back and pulling in Susan. Susan could feel him trembling.

"Edmund?" she asked tentatively, and he shook his head.

"All right," Peter said, his hand cupping the back of Edmund's head. "Let's go sit down." One hand on Edmund, another on Lucy - Edmund checked to make sure she was coming too, he wanted them together right now - Peter steered them back in to Edmund's room, where they all sat on the bed and Edmund told them of his dreams, the defeats and deaths, while looking down at the sheets.

When he finished, Edmund looked up at Peter. "Did - was I doing the right thing?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Peter was frowning. "You could not have betrayed Aslan again, and been in the right," the High King said slowly.

"But it didn't work!" Edmund protested, trying to make sense. The Four were silent for a moment.

"Perhaps that wasn't the point," Susan suggested. The other three looked at her. "You could not have changed the past anyway," she offered. "It has already happened. And it made you who you are, made _us_ who _we_ are."

"It was a terrible thing," Lucy agreed thoughtfully. "But Aslan took it and made it something better."

"Lucy, He _died _doing that!"

"For you." Peter's voice was stern. "And you cannot accept part of His love and not the rest. Either you accept His love as He gives it, or you reject it. You cannot dictate His love for you."

Edmund stopped, ashamed. That had not been what he meant to do.

"And you don't repeat your mistakes," Peter began.

"My _sins_," Edmund insisted.

"Your sins," Peter agreed soberly. "But you will let Him make them a part of the story of Narnia." Because it _was _the story of Narnia, Edmund realised. If he wanted the Narnia he knew now, he had to accept Aslan's creation of it.

"And to make you a better King," Susan added thoughtfully. She reached for Edmund's hands, holding them in hers. "You've been offered a compassion and a love deeper than you expected, Edmund. Let it shape you as a king." Edmund, looking at her unhappily, saw where she was headed.

"With the Dwarves of the Mountains," he said reluctantly.

"With the Dwarves of the Mountains, and the others like them," she agreed. "You've a brilliant mind, a hunger for justice, and you see people clearly. If you add to that a compassion for mistakes, you'll be a Judge unlike any Narnia has ever known."

Edmund made a face, but Susan had a point. The depth of Aslan's love was a lesson in compassion indeed. One he might have needed.

"Enough for tonight," Peter said quietly. "Do you think you can sleep?" Edmund hesitated. Lucy looked at him and suddenly grinned.

"Tea first?" she asked, and Edmund smiled reluctantly.

"Tea would be nice," he agreed.

"Last one to the kitchen makes the tea," she sang out, jumping to her feet and running out the door on feet as quietly as Edmund's cohorts in mischief, the Leopard brothers. Peter was on his feet a moment later, Edmund tripping him and jumping over him. From the hall, he heard Susan checking to make sure Peter wasn't hurt, and Peter grunting to never mind, just catch the others!

By the time all four made it to the kitchen (having avoided other Cair Paravel residents), Edmund was feeling less shaky and more alive as he watched his siblings, who were panting and laughing. Peter put on the kettle (he'd been too much of a gentleman to push past Susan _this time_, after she'd helped him). All of them stayed close, close enough Edmund could reach out and touch them if he wanted. _This_, Edmund thought_, after Aslan's love, was the best gift he'd been given_.

_This is what Aslan brought about even after I was a traitor. This is what He died to give._

* * *

Hours later, the sun was rising, and Edmund felt the last of the weight bleed away from his shoulders. _This_ was Narnia, not the Witch's winter, not dying and trying and dying over and over again. This was real. He wasn't fine - he wasn't sure he ever would be - but the night was over. Susan left first, excusing herself to make preparations for the arrival of the Calormen delegation the Dwarfs competed for. Lucy followed soon after, as she'd promised the morning to several of the garden Moles. But Peter stayed, side by side with Edmund, looking at the open door of the kitchen and the lightening sky.

"You don't have to stay," Edmund said at last. "Oreius is probably expecting us."

Peter shook his head. "I let you go last time," he explained. "Not this time." Edmund looked at him, startled. He remembered Lucy explaining, once, that Peter had told Aslan Peter's anger had helped to drive Edmund away. Edmund wasn't the only one with regrets. The only one who asked what would have happened if he'd done something differently.

"I'm all right, Peter," Edmund reassured him. Peter looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I will be. Someday. When I get my head around this. But I'm not going anywhere this time, right? So go find Oreius and make some excuses for me, so we don't both end up dead by tonight." Peter hesitated. "It really would be quite helpful not to be dead tomorrow."

"Fine," Peter said, getting to his feet. "Send word if you need someone, yeah?"

"I will." Edmund promised, watching Peter leave. He waited, then stood and went out the kitchen door to the outside. This side of the Cair should be empty, if Lucy was out on the other side.

It was. Edmund slipped through the bushes, avoided the flowers, and went to his favorite spot, a place where five uninhabited trees grew close enough together to block him from the sight of most passersby. Edmund sunk to the ground, his back against a tree. "Aslan," he murmured, trying in vain to keep his voice steady. But the Lion never thought less of him when he couldn't.

A wild, sweet scent filled the air, and warm breath fell on his face. Edmund looked up to see the Lion, and hurled himself forward, kneeling before the Lion.

"Aslan," Edmund asked, his thoughts spilling out in broken rush. "The girls told me - they said - and last night I had these dreams, Aslan, of doing something differently. And it _never worked_." The Lion bent down, touching Edmund's forehead, and Edmund marveled at the love he'd been given.

"Did you not listen to your family, Edmund?" Aslan asked. "What is in the past, is past. There is no need to discuss it in the present, if you have spoken of it to me." Edmund flushed, remembering that first instruction Aslan had given them when they'd reunited. Aslan stooped to look His King in the eyes. "Do not hold on to your sins, King of Narnia. They are paid for, and they have been redeemed in ways you now can see. Do not repeat them in the future. Let them teach you in the present."

"Aslan," Edmund asked, looking up, needing to ask that one last question, "if I had gone back - were the dreams real? Could I have done something differently?"

Aslan shook His head, His golden mane brighter than the morning sun. "I have told your family before, I do not tell you what _would_ have happened. Those dreams, perhaps, could have happened. Whether or not they _would_ is not your concern."

"But You would have won?" Edmund asked, the question he needed to know the answer to the most. He had seen, so clearly, that he could not have won in his own strength. But he needed to know that Aslan would have. Aslan looked at Edmund, and that, suddenly, was enough. There was no evil that could overcome the Son of the Emperor-Over-the-Sea, no triumph that would last. Even death at the hand of the Witch had not held Him. "You would have won," Edmund said softly.

"I have won," the Lion said, bending still further to kiss the King, and the glory of His presence melded with the bright sunlight. When Edmund finished blinking, he was alone.

Alone, and warm, and breathing more freely than he had since he'd heard his sisters. Truly, he was loved.

Now, as King, he needed to find a way to follow the Giver of Love.

Starting, he thought with a sigh, with the Dwarfs of the Mountains. He needed a way to discipline their actions but show them grace. He settled down to think.

OOOOO

*Referencing my short story "Loyalty."  
**The fun thing about writing stories where the hero dies repeatedly and comes back is that I don't have to deal with the fallout. Therefore, I have no idea how to answer Edmund's question; sorry, Edmund. Perhaps the point of it was that the story _couldn't_ have happened that way?

**A/N: for those who were curious, trustingHim17 reminded me that people not remembering their time as statues is canon, and Cayln and Anonymousme helpfully reminded me that Giant Rumblebuffin had no idea time had passed once Aslan breathed on him, so yes, they had no idea of time passing as they were statues. It kind of makes me wonder - what would it be like, to have turned into a statue 50 years into her reign, and coming to life again to find so much time had passed, but it was over?**

**A/N 2: I have no idea if people are interested in this, but some of the Scriptures for the mental debate that went on for this wacky, angsty story were:  
**"**But if through my lie God's truth abounds to his glory, why am I still being condemned as a sinner? And why not do evil that good may come?-as some people slanderously charge us with saying. Their condemnation is just." - Romans 3:7-8  
**"**Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." - Romans 5:20-21  
****Because there's a very large difference between sinning and God using sin for good. Lewis himself said, **"For you will certainly carry out God's purpose, however you act, but it makes a difference to you whether you serve like Judas or like John"** in **_**The Problem of Pain. **_**I think I ended with the conclusion that it's never an excuse to sin - Paul is very clear on that - but we have the reassurance that God works each sin for His glory, in His plan - and there is no better one. Just in case that wasn't clear in the story (which wouldn't cooperate).**

**Response to Anonymousme: No,I wasn't bored. :) I confess I'm much the same - if I'm reading a story and Aslan becomes portrayed as less than God, I will stop reading. So if it ever seems my stories head that direction, please let me know! And thank you for a good discussion on Peter. For the statues, I'm thinking that it would be a little like falling into REM sleep for them, too deep to dream, and no, I don't think stone would age. That's what led to the question above, because it would be very odd to be turned to stone and then come back and find you're younger than your children and that, at twenty-five or so, you have grandchildren. **


End file.
